


Bluer Than Velvet

by dontyoudarestiles, pineapplebreads



Series: Picture Book [2]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Domestic Fluff, Feminization, Lingerie, M/M, POV Outsider, Tina Finds Out, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 23:40:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11218671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontyoudarestiles/pseuds/dontyoudarestiles, https://archiveofourown.org/users/pineapplebreads/pseuds/pineapplebreads
Summary: The last thing Tina expects to find when she goes home for Thanksgiving is her father in bed with her ex-boyfriend.





	Bluer Than Velvet

Hindsight is a bitch with perfect vision.

Tina should’ve suspected something when her dad visited her on Parents Night at the end of September. She had even teased him about his new bulk, prodding, “Have you been working out, dad?” and thinking nothing of it when he shrugged her off and told her he was just trying to be healthier.

His shoulders were wider than she remembered, arms heavier with thick muscle that she had eyed with incredulity. She had even teased one of her new friends for ogling, flushing beet red when she told Tina how hot her dad was. She was glad at the time, thinking her dad was taking care of himself in her absence, despite the new facial hair that she’s never seen before, a salt and pepper scruff that makes him look distinguished, if a bit older.

It’s nice, Tina supposes, that he’s having a bit of change himself while his only child is off in college hundreds of miles away. She worries about him, even texts Credence, who had chosen to stay in LA to attend a state school, about making sure her dad is eating well. She knows her father gets so caught up with work sometimes that he forgets he needs food, so she’s glad to have someone close to both of them who still lives near enough to check on him.

Every time Tina calls, Credence always knows the right thing to say to reassure her, even if he’s too camera shy to FaceTime with her. He’s a great friend nonetheless, and Tina feels the familiar pang of regret for not having had much time to spend with him after graduation before she jetted off to France and Spain and then almost immediately off to college. Hopefully, he and her dad kept each other company during the summer while she was gone.

Tina grins to herself thinking about her friend and her dad’s friendship as she carefully, silently unlocks the side door to the garage, excited to see them both. She’d fibbed only a little to her dad last week about not being able to come home for Thanksgiving break, feigning enthusiasm for a great internship opportunity she wanted to take advantage of while it lasted. She can’t wait to see the expression on her dad’s face when she appears in the doorway of his study where she knows he’ll be locked in with his paperwork. He'll be so surprised.

It feels good to be away from her problems for a little while, away from the stress of classes and having to think about… Newt. To go home to spend some time with her dad and see Credence and Queenie.

Tina gathers her luggage from the cab, waving the driver off when he offers to help and pauses at the garage door. There’s a weight lifting set up in the corner, complete with rather intimidating barbells, and a treadmill she’s never seen before. Her father’s never been much of an exercise man and she smiles to herself, a bit confused, but it explains the new bulk. Probably some midlife crisis or something, she thinks, brushing it off as she steps into the back.

The kitchen is pristine as usual, just the way she remembers it, though peeking into the sink, she frowns when she sees two dirtied coffee mugs. One of them is her father’s favorite and the other is completely unfamiliar to her.

She’d been gone three months and then the whole summer before that, she tells herself as she begins dragging her luggage upstairs, making sure the wheels of her carry-on are quiet against the steps. It feels like she’d been gone a whole year. Things are bound to have changed in her absence.

But even that realization doesn’t stop the absolute shock that turns Tina’s blood to ice when she sees her father’s bedroom door aloft and hears the harsh bang of his bed’s frame against the wall.

“Yes, yes, let me hear you, love,” she hears in her father’s thick, deep rumble, sees his wide shoulders tensing as his hips roll, bending over a slim pale figure clothed in swathes of delicate cream lace. There are long milky legs wrapped around his waist and slender arms pulling her father closer.

The image is burned into her eyes, horror making her slow to react as she sees thick long curls tossing on her father’s pillow. Thinking she’s caught her dad in bed with a woman, she turns to leave them to their privacy, when the voice of the person beneath her father freezes her in her tracks.

_“Percival!”_

The voice is familiar but it still takes Tina a molasses-slow moment to realize that's not a woman—it’s Credence. His voice, normally soft and low has gone throaty and strange with lust and desire. She sees his face, flushed pink with pleasure, writhing under… under her _father_.

And that’s when the realization clicks. Her father is fucking her ex-boyfriend, her best friend, the most precious person she’s ever known, in her childhood home, for god knows how long. Unable to stand being so close to their proximity where she can still _hear_ them and if she twists her head just so, she can still _see_ them, Tina turns away and flees down the steps, abandoning her luggage in the hallway in her panic.

She sits silently in the kitchen, staring unseeingly down at the granite counter top she’d known for so long. She traces the little specks and swirls in the stone, even as she breathes heavily, trying to swallow down vomit, because that was her _dad._ Thank god he’d been wearing pants. She doesn’t know if she could’ve taken seeing him naked, but _Credence._ Oh, Credence. Tina covers her mouth, shaking.

Suddenly, a lot of things click into place.

Towards the beginning of senior year, her dad suddenly went lax on her. Tina remembers him smiling more, beaming brighter than she’d ever seen him before, eyes wrinkling handsomely. She had even accused him of having a secret girlfriend one night, determined to get to the bottom of his months-long good mood.

“Nothing like that, Teens,” he’d said dismissively, still smiling as he put the dishes away after dinner. “There's no girlfriend,” he had added, glancing at Credence still sitting at the dinner table.

Tina feels like such an idiot, thinking on it now. She could scream, it was so obvious. He’d started coming home earlier in the afternoon instead of working late into the night like he had always done before November of that year, probably just to see _Credence_. And letting her go out more and more often without comment, that should have been suspect. Tina had thought at the time it was because he’d started trusting her more.

She chews at her thumbnail, looking at the time blinking on the microwave. She closes her eyes when she hears a loud keen float through the house, Credence sounding incoherent, and she covers her ears to keep the noises out.

It lasts another thirty minutes before the voices quiet, Tina resorting to earbuds by the end of it to drown it out, trying to focus on _anything else._ She hears them shuffling around upstairs when it’s finally over, a ring of laughter, footsteps in the hallway, down the stairs, and she stands when they come into the kitchen, watching the post-coitus laziness and satisfaction fall away from their expressions when they see her trembling at the counter.

“Tina,” says Credence hoarsely, and Tina can barely keep from crying, because he’s _ruined._ He's dressed in one of her father’s oversized sleepshirts, no pants, all long shapely legs and soft flushed skin and wildly long curls and beestung mouth and absolutely _covered_ in hickeys. There are dark purple splashes on his throat and over his delicate collarbones and a shoulder bared by the shirt. There’s even one in the inside of his elbow, she notices dully.

She watches as her father drapes a protective arm around his waist, pulling her friend in easily, sweetly, familiarly, like he’s been doing this for _years._

“Tina, we can explain,” he says, trying to sound authoritative, like he hasn’t just slid a knife between her ribs.

“What the fuck,” she says, her tone rising to a near-screech. “What the _fuck.”_

“Tina, language,” says her father and she laughs hysterically.

“Language!” she wheezes. She points at them wildly, accusatory. _“Language!_ You weren’t complaining about language when my best _friend_ was telling you to fuck him harder!”

“Tina!” Credence sounds shocked and she claps a hand over her mouth to keep the words from spewing out and begins to pace, whipping around the kitchen. Her mind is working frantically as if she could just think this away.

“Sit down, both of you.” She chews at her lip. “I can’t do this. Oh, my god. How long has this been happening. Since I left for the summer? Shit, Cree, you only just turned eighteen. When did this start?!”

Amazingly, they do as she says, taking seats at the counter like chagrined naughty children caught reaching for the cookie bin, and Tina could just _die._

“How long, Dad?” she says when neither of them answer her. Her voice sounds foreign even to herself, it's so cold.

“Since junior year,” whispers Credence, abashed. She sees him slide his smaller hand into her father’s and the universe just _implodes._

“Oh, my _God.”_ Tina breathes in hard. “Dad, how could you? _How could you?”_

Her father just grits his teeth, refusing to look away, still holding tight to Credence’s waist. “I’m not going to apologize, Tina,” he says, ignoring her scoff. “Credence is the best thing in my life, and I won't apologize for loving him.”

“I guess you’re also not sorry that Credence was _my_ boyfriend at the time then, right, Dad?” she demands, feeling the tears clog in her throat and she’s choking on her words.

Credence stands, reaches for her. “Tina, please don’t cry.” His eyes look as glossy as hers feel and she flinches when his slim arms wrap around her shoulders to bring her in for a warm hug. “It—it sounds stupid, but it just _happened.”_

“You _just_ fell into bed with my dad, was that it?” she sniffles into his shoulder, quaking with anger but unable to shove him away.

“It was the same with you and Newt, don’t pretend it wasn’t,” she hears him mutter, and okay, _point._

“Newt wasn’t your father though,” she says furiously. “And I wasn’t _underage,_ Jesus Christ, Dad.”

Her father sighs, a frustrated burst of noise that he has no right to make in this situation. She wants to find a time machine and and go back in time so she could beat a plate over his head for his stupidity.

“I know, Tina. I _know_ ,” he says. “I told myself the same thing over and over again when it was happening.”

“But you still did it!” She pulls herself away from Credence, swiping at her eyes. “You could’ve gone to jail, Dad! Don’t you understand?”

But when she looks at her father, he’s not looking at her. He’s gazing at Credence, all soft-eyed affection as he says, “Yes, Tina. I know. But he was worth it. Still is.”

Tina sees Credence’s blush, and she can’t believe it. Her father is a fucking romantic. “Am I dreaming? Am I going to wake up soon?”

A vein in her forehead spasms when she sees Credence bend to peck at her father’s lips, so chaste he could’ve been kissing his grandmother, but so damn fucking _loving._

“I hope not,” says Credence, the sap, and the anger is sparking high in her stomach again because they’re _smiling_ at each other as if they’ve been together for decades, as if Credence isn’t a lifetime younger than her father, as if he isn’t younger than Tina, let alone her dad, as if this is somehow _acceptable_.

And that’s when she throws up her arms, unable to take it anymore. She’s sure that if she has to stay in the room with them for even _one more second_ , she’s going to explode and say or do something she can’t take back.

“I might throw up, I think I am,” Tina splutters as her father wraps his arms around Credence’s waist, burying his face in her best friend’s stomach. That’s the last straw. She can’t take it anymore. She can’t even look at the way they’re wrapped around each other, every line of them oozing affection as though they’re blurring together at the edges, melting into one another and all she feels is— _disgust_. She needs to leave.

“Tina, we still need to talk more,” her dad says as she turns for the door, the fatherly tone that she hates creeping back into his voice, and she puts out her hands in front of her, _stop._

“Not now,” she says in such a quietly enraged voice, they all freeze. “I’m going to Queenie’s. I might stay overnight. I might stay longer. I don’t know. But right now, I’m so _mad._ I don’t want to do or say anything that I’ll regret.”

Credence is crying again, big drops sliding down his pink cheeks as he nods quickly, nose swelling. He’s always been so sensitive, Credence. “Okay,” he says tearfully, putting a hand on her dad’s shoulder when he moves to protest. “Okay.”

Tina doesn’t even take her luggage, just storms out of the house and begins crossing the yard to next door, the wind whipping at her hair. She’s just about to knock on the door when it swings open and there’s Queenie, all wide, concerned eyes and soft perfect golden curls. Beautiful, understanding Queenie who is just the person Tina needs right now.

“Oh, honey,” Queenie says, brow furrowed with deep sympathy. “Come on in.”

“You don’t even know, Queenie,” Tina babbles as she slips around her friend into her house, warm and bright and not full of best friends and fathers in love with each other. “You don’t even _know.”_

“But I kind of do,” admits Queenie as Tina plops down onto the couch, arms crossed, absolutely buzzing with anger. “Credence and Mr. Graves, right?”

Tina’s mouth drops open in shock, feeling as though there’s another knife sliding between her ribs. Her other best friend, her _sister_ , would keep this from her. At this rate, who can she even trust anymore? _“No._ You can’t—Queenie, you _knew?_ And you didn’t tell me?”

“Wasn’t my secret to spill, bunny.” Queenie sits next to her, patting her knee. “Come on, now, Teeny. I knew about you and Newt long before you ever opened your mouth to tell me. What makes you think Credence is any different?”

“Maybe because his Newt is my _Dad?!”_ splutters Tina, chest heaving. “That’s a little different than kissing a childhood crush at a birthday party, isn’t it?”

Queenie sighs and pulls her close. “No,” she admits, “not quite the same, but I don’t think we can help who we want to be with. And honestly, all of this is horrible timing, if nothing else. Credence was planning on telling you when you came home.”

Tina swallows dryly, taking a deep breath. “They still lied to me, Queenie,” she says, trying to suck the tears back down. “For two years. And I found out… in a _really_ bad way.”

“Tina,” Queenie says, and Tina can’t help but sit up a bit straighter. Queenie rarely calls her by her given name. “Think of it this way… there is no _right_ in this situation. Everyone made mistakes here. Even you.” And when Tina tries to protest, she gets a lifted eyebrow and Queenie continues, not unkindly, “Be honest with me, Tina. I _know_ you didn’t like Credence that way, not even a little from the very beginning. You were just trying to get over Newt. You and Credence never really had a romantic relationship.”

Tina dips her head a little in chagrin. “Maybe,” she admits. “And, yeah. I… I didn’t handle that situation in the best way.”

Queenie raises an eyebrow at her. “Besides, have you ever seen your dad this happy? Ever?”

Tina doesn’t answer, and Queenie nods succinctly, curls bouncing, her point made.

“They’re good for each other, Tina.” Queenie smiles gently. “Really good. They’re _both_ really happy, and while they made mistakes in the past, and you’re finding this out in the worst possible way, they’re really not doing anything wrong. Not anymore. Just give it some thought, Teeny. For me, if not for them. Try to see it from their side.”

Tina bites down on her lip and nods slowly. “Okay.” She lifts her chin. “But I can’t just forgive them overnight. I need… I need some time. I still need to wrap my head around this.”

Queenie nods in understanding. “Alright, bunny. Just don’t take too long.” She nods out the window at Tina’s house. “You’ll get used to it soon enough.”

“Says you,” says Tina, a little haunted. “You didn’t see your best friend having sex with your dad.”

But Queenie has a point, several points, and Tina can’t ignore them as easily as she’d thought she’d be able to.

The Credence she knew in high school would’ve come crawling to her the moment she raised her voice, begging for forgiveness, trembling at every word she spoke, Tina finds herself thinking as she lays in bed that night. And yes, he did cry. He did look at her with sadness in his eyes, with horror at the way she’d found out, but never once with regret. Never once with the self-hatred or anger that she knew he would’ve had when they were younger.

She thinks on this as Queenie’s mother pours her coffee the next morning and asks her about college and chatters happily before heading out for work. Tina pokes at her breakfast as she looks out the window at her own yard, still as green and as beautiful as she’d left it.

Credence has changed, she realises. And for the better. She didn’t miss the way he held himself the day before in the kitchen, never once backing down from her vitriol, standing firm but compassionate in his conviction. She wonders how much of that is Credence growing to be comfortable in his own skin and how much of it is thanks to her dad.

There’s also her dad: she’s never seen him so _bright_ before. For all her life, he’s been alone, never so much as bringing a date home, let alone any partners. Only work. And if she continues down that labyrinth of thought, how can she really hate either of them for only chasing their own happiness in each other?

That’s mainly the reason she doesn’t slam the door shut when Credence appears on Queenie’s doorstep two days later, this time fully dressed, but still blushing and a little sheepish.

“You want to talk?” he asks, smiling tentatively, and most of Tina’s anger has faded by now, leaving only confusion and exasperation.

“Yeah,” she says, sighing. “Let's take a walk.”

They step out, rounding the corner of the street slowly, no rush. It’s getting cold for LA, dipping down into the fifties, and Tina sighs at the brisk breeze ruffling their hair. She reaches out and lightly tugs on one of Credence’s curls, long and silky under her touch.

“I like the new hair,” she admits, and it’s the right thing to say because Credence grins brightly at her for it.

“Thanks,” he says, a little bashful, but he doesn’t avoid the compliment or go red as a cherry or mutter to himself like he would’ve only a year ago. “I like it too.”

“Does Dad?” Tina finds herself asking, a little bitter.

Credence coughs into his fist, cheeks flushing and Tina grins, amused despite herself as she bumps into his shoulder, because she still sees that shy boy who had stumbled as he asked her to go with him for ice cream that day in junior year.

“I’m just teasing,” she sighs, kicking at a rock on the sidewalk. “I really don’t want to know, actually.”

“He does like it,” Credence finally says, slightly defiant, but the smile curving his lips softens him. “H—he’s the one who told me it was okay. If I wanted to grow it out. That I can be myself, and not be ashamed of it.”

Tina sometimes forgets about Credence’s mother, if she even counts as one, before he was adopted by his foster family. That horrible woman had scarred him deeper than the cuts on his back and the old welts on his hands show.

Tina reaches out and takes his hand in hers, squeezing lightly. “Dad’s right,” she agrees. “You can be.”

“I know,” Credence says, eyes bright. “I know now. But Percival helped me understand that. And I’ll always love him for it.” He swallows. “But I don’t want to lose you, Tina. You’re my best friend.”

The last of her anger melts away, and she drags him in for a hug. “Come here, dummy.” She tightens her arms around his shoulders, sighing. “I’m still… confused, Cree. But I love you too much to stay mad for long.” She hears him sniffle wetly, feels him nod his head. It takes him a little bit to collect himself, but he does and they start walking again.

“Can I ask how it happened?” she says tentatively, and he nods.

“Do you remember that time? In your room?” he asks, and he looks a little embarrassed, playing with his fingers quietly. “You led me up and took off your shirt. And we kissed a little and the whole time I was just trying to make myself like it. You left and Percival found me. I must’ve looked so dumb. I was just sitting there crying, and he calmed me down, talked me out of panicking. And then we kissed and it was… it was _everything_ I wanted kissing you to be.”

Tina stares at him, shocked. “Credence, I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be,” Credence insists. “You didn’t know. _I_ didn’t even know.”

Tina nods numbly, still feeling guilty when a realization hits her and the guilt all but dissipates. She shoves Credence so suddenly, he nearly falls into the rose bushes they’re walking past. “You kissed my dad _on my bed?!”_ she shrieks, before dissolving into incredulous laughter.

Credence turns such a dark red that she thinks he might faint. “We didn’t _plan_ it!” he splutters and she laughs harder still, doubled over, eyes tearing. “It’s not that funny!”

“You slut!” she wheezes. “Kissing me and my dad on the same day!”

“Tina!” Credence gasps, mouth gaping in shock. After all this time, he’s still a little stunned by crude language and she could just die laughing. “You’re taking this a lot better than I thought you would.”

Tina scrubs at her eyes, still giggling. “How did we even get here, Credence?”

He sighs, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Don’t ask me. I am sorry you found out the way you did. I meant to tell you the next time you came home, and we certainly didn’t plan for you to walk in on us. But I’m also very happy, and I would be even more so if you can forgive us.” He gets a dreamy look in his eyes, and Tina feigns gagging.

“Ugh, you two are worse than Queenie and Jacob,” she accuses. “But I think I’m halfway there. I’m going to need a little more groveling, though.”

Credence catches her in a surprise hug, delighted. “Really? Of course, Tina, anything at all!” He squeezes her tight.

“Please try to keep kissing my dad in front of me to a minimum,” she begs as she pulls away to look up at him. “Just wait until I’m out of sight and then whatever, I don’t care, but I’m begging you, Cree. Don’t torture me.”

“But Tina,” Credence protests, an edge of mischief sliding into his tone, “I don’t know if I can help myself. He’s so _handsome_ , and dreamy, and—”

Tina slaps at his shoulder three times in succession, shrieking in horror. “Shut up, shut up! It’s bad enough that I saw you in _panties,_ Credence Barebone—”

Credence makes a strangled noise so loud, Tina thinks she might’ve killed him. “Oh my god!” He covers his rose red face with his hands, shaking his head. “Can we pretend that never happened, and never mention it again?”

Tina laughs long and loud. Revenge is sweet. “Please tell me you don’t call him ‘daddy,’ Barebone, I swear—”

“I would never!” he shrills, mouth agape. “I call him husband!” And then he pales because he obviously didn’t mean to say that, not at all.

“Oh, wow. Wow.” Tina looks at him in shock. “You have it bad, don’t you, Credence?”

Credence is still bright red when he smirks slightly to himself. “If you only knew what your dad calls _me_ ,” and despite Tina’s best efforts, he refuses to tell her.

…

Thanksgiving is not as awkward as Tina expects it to be, now that she’s had a couple of days at Queenie’s, away from them, to calm down and gather her thoughts. Sure, the morning is spent with her watching aghast as her dad and Credence act like an affectionate old married couple, but it could be worse, she supposes.

She can easily ignore the light touches, the secret smiles, and Credence practically draping himself across her father’s lap, and even her dad pressing a bright strawberry against Credence’s lips until he takes it between his teeth. They’re so enraptured in one another, she can’t even bring herself to feel bitter about the situation anymore, only slight disgust at the sheer _sappiness_ of it, and she thinks she might vomit if they aren’t keeping their promise to not kiss in front of her. Small mercies.

The afternoon is spent watching the two of them exchange heated glances as they prepare Thanksgiving dinner. They usually spend Thanksgiving with Queenie’s family, but this year, her dad is making the turkey, with Credence’s help. If help is even the correct term, when all they seem to do is hand feed each other small nibbles of food and Graves asking huskily, “how’s that taste, baby?” and Credence’s breathy reply, “Mmmmm… _so good._ ”

Tina briefly wonders, if this is the two of them toning it down for her benefit, how ridiculous are they when she's not around? She decides she doesn't really want to know the answer to that. She supposes they’re just making up for lost time now that they don’t have to hide anymore, and she can begrudgingly understand that.

She sighs loudly and drops the last potato she's supposed to peel into the bowl in front of her and stands up, noting with slight satisfaction at the way they jump apart.

“I'm going to take a nap,” she declares loudly, desperately wanting to get away from them and be alone for a little while. “Please come get me when dinner's ready.” And she all but runs from the kitchen, offering Credence a grateful smile when he puts a reassuring hand on her dad’s shoulder to keep him from protesting.

Tina drifts slowly through the house, revisiting the familiar rooms she hasn't seen in months and realizes if she had paid more attention when she came home a few days ago, she would've seen signs of Credence everywhere. There's his hoodie draped along the armrest of the couch and his sociology textbooks scattered on the coffee table. She can see extra pairs of shoes and sneakers her dad would never wear lined up by the front door, and his letterman hanging in the front closet.

And _that_ really, should've been the dead giveaway. Her dad would never have given that jacket away so lightly and Tina sighs again, wondering how she had been so blind. Her father couldn't hide his possessiveness if he'd tried.

Her feet bring her back to the kitchen entryway, and she pauses for a bit, unable to look away as she watches her father and Credence share an affectionate kiss. They really do look beautiful together, Tina has to admit, melting a little.

That's the man who raised her, had worked long hours to make sure she would never want for anything, had done everything in his power to provide for her and raise her to be her own person. Who is she, really, to begrudge him this happiness when he's so luminescent with joy, more relaxed than she'd ever seen, especially if that person giving him this happiness is Credence, who in turn looks at her father like he's hung the moon and stars. It doesn't matter, really, and she's selfish to think it ever did.

She and Newt were like that once, in the beginning, until the romance petered off and mellowed. Tina can't help but wonder how her dad and Credence are still so passionate about each other after two years when she and Newt are—she doesn't even know what they are anymore. She can't help but feel a small pang of jealousy, and wishes she and Newt could've had this too.

Tina finally turns away when her father crowds Credence against the counter to deepen the kiss, hands cradling his slim hips to hoist him up onto the granite. Seeing any more of them together feels disgustingly intrusive, and Tina heads up to her room for that nap, hoping they won't decide to have sex over the green bean casserole. She shudders, trying to push the vision from her head.

She dozes for a little while in her own bed, snuggling her childhood pillow she'd missed so much before getting up groggily an hour or so later. She heads down the steps and in retrospect she probably should've made some noise, banged her feet against the floor or coughed loudly before entering the kitchen or _something_.

When she gets downstairs, she smells the cinnamon sugar of apple pie in the oven and is greeted with the sight of her father kissing Credence so desperately that she's wondering how they're not disappearing into each other. She probably should’ve heard them, given that they’re filling the room with soft moans and little mewls. She wonders if they ever paused from when she saw them last.

“Princess,” Tina hears her father sigh roughly against Credence’s cheek, and she can't help it when she stumbles and knocks a plate off the counter in shock, porcelain shattering loudly on the pristine wood floors as she gapes at them.

“Dad!” she nearly shouts when they don't even react, and it's only then that her father jumps back from Credence, both of them staring at her wide eyed, guilty as red-handed thieves. “What the actual _fuck.”_

“Tina,” says her dad, rubbing at his neck, sheepish, and Tina thinks to herself that her father is _shameless_ when she realizes the last time he called her ‘princess’ coincided with Credence coming into their lives. The realization dawns and she has to bite back the string of colorful curses she knows her father would reprimand her for if he hears her speaking them aloud.

“I'm going to pretend I heard and saw nothing,” she says loudly. “And instead of just no kissing, you're both forbidden from even touching each other in front of me, _Jesus Christ.”_

Her dad looks like she's given him a death sentence, and Credence's bottom lip wobbles, devastated.

“Don't look at me like that!” she protests. “I know more about my father’s sex life than I ever wanted to. Who's fault is that? Not mine! You're both in the doghouse until I'm gone, oh God.”

“You don't have to be so extreme,” says her father, exasperated. “We can control ourselves, I promise.”

“Obviously not,” she says wryly, raising an eyebrow.

Credence's hands clutch at her dad’s shoulders needily, but she slaps him lightly with a spatula. “No!” He slinks away with a pout and goes to check on the pie in the oven as her dad cleans up the broken plate.

Dinner passes with little fanfare with the game playing in the background as they cut into the turkey. It's only a little dry and slightly charred at the edges but Tina doesn't really have the heart to point out that if maybe they'd paid more attention to the oven and a little less to each other, the turkey might not have overcooked.

Tina had fully intended to spend the rest of the evening with them together in the living room, but one look at their wistful glances at each other has her begging fatigue. She's not sure how much she can take of their ridiculous pining for each other from three feet away, so she smiles and retreats to her room, but not before reminding them to behave.

She should probably call Newt anyways.

They hadn't left on the best of terms. The little things had been building up for months, Newt’s lack of attention and all the bad habits Tina has grown to hate. Their long distance apart certainly didn't help the matter.  

It all came to a head right before midterms a few weeks ago, when all they could do was agree to take a break from each other before they did more irreparable damage to their relationship.

Tina stares blankly at her phone for a long time until the numbers on the screen start to blur together in a white haze. She can't bring herself to press the call button, doesn't even know if she wants to hear Newt’s voice so soon, especially when she still feels so raw about everything. Not only about their relationship but the newfound discovery of her father and Credence too.

She doesn't know if Newt would be the best person to talk about things with anyways; he's not the most emphatic on the best of days. She sighs and puts her phone away. Maybe more pie will help.

Tina makes the second mistake of the night by once again being too quiet. The second time seeing her dad having sex with Credence is no less shocking than the first, and brings back the same gut wrenching horror and nausea. She's frozen rooted in place, unable to look away even though she really, _really_ should.

They're both on the couch, Credence bouncing on her father’s lap. The afghan usually draped over the back of the armchair is wrapped around their legs, thankfully shielding most of the important bits from her horrified stare but there's no mistaking what they're doing when Credence tosses his head back with a loud moan after a particularly hard thrust.

“You like that, baby?” Tina hears her dad growl against Credence's neck. She can see his large hands spanning Credence's narrow waist, squeezing possessively. “You like riding my dick like a good little wife?”

“Y-yes,” Credence gasps, voice pitched high around his whine. “I love taking my husband’s big cock. P-please. _Harder._ ”

And Tina can't take it anymore. She flees back to her room, all thoughts of pie and any desire to eat disappearing. She's going to die this weekend, she knows it. She's going to have a heart attack around every corner because her father and Credence can't keep their hands off of each other.

The next morning, she can't even look either of them in the eye during breakfast. She finds herself being hyper aware of Credence as he hums and putters about the kitchen whipping up breakfast, fried eggs popping on the stove and washing fruit like the good little wife her dad crooned about last night.

Tina stares at his hands, not much bigger than her own, trying to see if he's wearing a little gold band on his ring finger, if her dad’s popped the question yet. Because, looking at her father now, panting as he enters the kitchen from the garage, all sweaty and flushed from his morning run, reaching for Credence for a good morning kiss, it's only a matter of time. She knows her father better than anyone, and the way he's looking at Credence, like he's the morning sun, like he’s all that matters, with so much love, she knows he's going to ask and soon.

Had it been anyone other than Credence, so much younger than her dad and pretty and soft, she might've doubted him. Suspected him of being a gold digger or worse. But it's _Credence._ Sugar sweet Credence who still murmurs prayers to himself before tests, who refuses to kill even the largest of spiders, who sets out birdseed in the old feeder she didn't even know they still had in the backyard. Credence who wants to be a social worker to _help_. Tina doubts he's ever had a bad intention in his life. No wonder her dad loves him so much to the point of obsession.

Credence finally pulls away from the kiss with a heavy blush. Tina has no doubt if she weren't there, Credence would be splayed out naked on the table by now. Her dad has no self control, she thinks to herself with a small amount of irritation.

“Percy,” she hears Credence whisper, all big eyes and swollen mouth. “Not in front of Tina.”

“Yeah, Dad,” she says as her father begrudgingly disentangles from Credence. “Not in front of Tina.”

Her dad scowls, but Credence cups his stubbled cheek, a thumb caressing her dad’s jaw so softly Tina has to look away. “Go shower, Percival,” she hears him say, voice soft with adoration. “I made you breakfast.”

“‘Percy,’” says Tina aloud once her dad’s disappeared upstairs. “I think that's the most surprising thing about all of this.”

“Hm?” Credence looks at her as he hands her a plate of eggs and strawberries and fluffy Cuban bread. “What is?”

“The fact you call him by his first name,” she laughs. “In high school it was always ‘yes, sir, Mr. Graves,’ or ‘No thanks, Mr. Graves’. Always so proper and polite.”

Credence smiles sheepishly. “The truth is I only started calling him Percival after the first time he said he loved me,” he admits to Tina’s laughter.

“Oh god, Credence!” she snorts, nearly spilling her coffee. “You made the man wait that long to call him by his first name?”

“I was young, alright?” Credence defends, though his eyes crinkle with humor. “And he was so much older and it felt safer to just call him Mr. Graves. It felt weird to call him Percival at the time, like I was overstepping some sort of boundary.”

 _Boundary_ , Tina thinks and almost laughs, highly amused. “You've changed so much,” she says fondly instead. “In a good way.”

“We all have.” Credence smiles over the rim of his cup, that happy light in his eyes making him glow softly.

“No kidding,” snorts Tina. “I leave for a few months and Dad puts on ten pounds of muscle and grows a beard. What is that about?”

Credence goes so red so quickly that she thinks she sees him sway a little in shock.

“Oh my _God,”_ says Tina in horror. “Oh _my_ god! It's a sex thing, isn't it? It totally is!”

“It's not! It's not!” Credence protests, cheeks still ruby red. “He just. I don't know. I like the way the stubble feels. It's nice! But the working out was all him!”

She's laughing so hard she nearly upsets a cup of orange juice. “Did he feel _inadequate?_ Is that it?”

“I hope not,” Credence replies, looking a little insulted at the thought. “He's more than _adequate._ ”

“Did you just—” Tina gapes at him incredulously. “I really don't want to know what parts of my dad you find _more than adequate_.”

She didn't think Credence could turn any redder but he somehow manages. “That's not what I meant!” he protests, burying his face in his hands. “I think he just likes being stronger than me or something. I don't know! But I didn't— _tell_ him to go out and exercise!”

“I'm just teasing,” Tina laughs, just in time as her dad steps into the kitchen, cleanly dressed, hair damp.

He eyes them suspiciously. “Who's teasing who now?” He comes up behind Credence, laying a hand on Credence's shoulder and raising an eyebrow at her.

“Why am I automatically the guilty one?” she protests.

Her father makes a noncommittal noise and gestures vaguely as though to say, _have you seen Credence? He can do no wrong_ , and Tina snorts, affection burgeoning in her chest for both of them. She really can’t find even a shred of bitterness about them anymore, withheld secret and betrayal and all, not when she realizes the depth of how much they love each other, and how it was never about her at all.

Which is why she readily agrees when her father offers to drive her back to school on Sunday afternoon.

The car ride with her father is not as awkward as she would’ve expected, given the weekend they just had, but Tina likes to think they’d always been close. They were all each other had for a long time, and there’s no one else she loves more in the world than her dad.

The first half hour of the two hour drive passes in amicable silence, but when they pull onto the freeway, Tina breaks the soft quiet with a curious, “How are you and Credence able to still love each other so much, despite everything?”

Her father startles a little in the driver's seat as though he’d lulled off, not expecting her to talk to him for the whole ride. The thought strikes a sharp pang in Tina’s chest, and she regrets her behavior in the beginning of the weekend, when she’d screamed at them and then all but fled for days before coming back and still barely speaking to her father at all. She’s going to try to be more understanding from now on, to be nicer to the two people she loves most in the world.

“It couldn’t have been easy,” Tina adds, prodding gently.

Her father hums a little before replying. “Loving Credence is the easiest thing in the world,” he finally says, completely unabashed.

Tina groans, but smiling to show she doesn’t really mean it. “That’s so cheesy, Dad! I can’t believe he made you such a huge sap!” she exclaims, effectively breaking the thin layer of ice that had formed in the silence and warming the space between them again.

He turns slightly to offer her a lopsided smile. “It’s true though. He has a way of making me… sentimental.”

“That’s good, Dad,” Tina says sincerely. “I’m glad you have someone like Credence. Really, I am. That finding out part though, that could’ve used a little work.”

He winces. “Not our finest moment, I'll give you that. If I could've told you sooner, I would. You know that, don't you?” He looks over at her as long as he can before he has to put his eyes back on the road. “I hate keeping secrets from you, Teens. It killed me, having to pretend.”

She nods slowly. “I still wish it could've been in any other way. But… I get it. If I had what you have with Credence, I guess I'd want to keep it all to myself for as long as I could.”

Her dad smiles at the road, expression almost wistful. “I thought I was the worst type of man,” he admits. “For wanting Credence.”

“Because he was my boyfriend?” she asks curiously. “Or because of his age?”

“Both,” he sighs. “I tried to keep away, ignore it. But I couldn't not love Credence, and before I knew it, I was in too deep to go back. I've never regretted it.”

“Never?”

“Never,” he repeats. “Credence is the greatest love of my life. I couldn't regret him if I tried.”

“So when are you going to ask him?” Tina says.

“Ask him what?” her dad replies. Whether he's playing coy or actually oblivious enough to not know what she's talking about, Tina isn't sure, but she's not going to let him get away with it.

“When are you going to ask Credence to marry you?” She clarifies. She grimaces before saying, “I heard you call him ‘wife’ on Thanksgiving night. When are you going to make that happen?”

Her father splutters and it's the first time in her life Tina has ever seen him blush. She's so delighted with the red tint in his cheeks beneath the beard that it's almost worth the embarrassment of letting him know she had seen them in the living room.

“You have to stop walking in on us like that,” he finally replies primly after clearing his throat multiple times, delaying. “It's very rude.”

“ _Rude?_ ” Tina gasps, reaching over to smack his arm lightly. “What's rude is me not being able to get pie in the middle of the night because I lost all appetite after witnessing _that._ Don't you two believe in _using your room?_  Or better yet, _shutting the door?_  Ugh, I never want to see that ever again. _Please_. At least marry the poor guy so it would be worth all the pain my eyes went through.”

He doesn't say anything for a few minutes and Tina is beginning to think she's not going to get an answer when her father finally says softly, almost tentative, “You think he would say yes?”

His knuckles are turning white on the steering wheel and Tina near melts at the hint of uncertainty in his voice.

How can he not see what she sees? That Credence is completely and utterly devoted to him and this is it, for both of them. She can only hope she would ever find anything close to what they have in her lifetime. This great love that usually only exists in stories and fairytales.

“Oh Dad,” Tina sighs, reaching over to grip his hand reassuringly. “ _Of course_ he would. Besides, I'll kill him if he doesn't, so don't worry.”

“You'll do nothing of the sort,” says her dad forbiddingly, though his mouth twitches with amusement. “It's just. He's so _young._ He could be out exploring what he wants, and having fun instead of being tied down.” His brow furrows and he looks vaguely nauseous as he says this, and Tina nearly laughs, would have if it isn't so pathetic. “And getting married to an old man like me—”

“He loves you,” she interrupts, smiling despite herself. “So much, Dad. That's all that matters.” She raises a brow. “And I'm pretty sure that if you don't get a move on quick, he'll ask the question for you.” She knows her dad has a bit of a competitive thing, same as he has a bit of a possessive thing, and she sees the ploy working, his eyes narrowing with determination.

“Yes,” he says thoughtfully. “You're right.” And then, a bit bashful, “Would I sound completely ridiculous if I told you I bought the ring last summer?”

“Only a little bit, dad. Just a little bit,” she says, poking him in the arm. “So you better ask him soon.”

He smiles quietly to himself, eyes already wistful and slightly misty and Tina realizes her dad is _hopeless._

“You're coming home for Christmas, right?”

She squeezes his hand again. “I wouldn't miss it.”

…

Tina doesn't know how much she needs space from the situation until she finds herself breathing a sigh of relief studying for finals instead of obsessing about her father dating one of her best friends. It's as though a valve opened after that weekend and Credence becomes much more open with her and eager to share small details, especially those of his relationship now that he knows Tina doesn't mind.

She finds herself quietly rooting for them more often than not whenever Credence texts her worriedly asking what to do for their weekly date night or hearing his mild complaints about how her dad always uses the wrong fabric softener for their whites.

And whenever her college friends begin whining about the drama in their lives, all Tina has to do is tell them her ex-boyfriend is dating her father for their jaws to drop and the complaints to cease.

“Pics or it didn't happen,” demands one of the girls during a drunk study session and that's how Tina ends up badgering Credence for his Instagram handle persistently via text until he finally gives. He had been strangely stubborn about keeping his account a secret.

“Why do you want to know so badly?” Credence says over the phone. Tina can hear him chopping up vegetables in the background. Such a housewife, she thinks in exasperation. “You know it's just going to be pictures of me and your dad.”

“Because!” Tina shushes her friends, who are giggling way too loudly on her dorm room floor. “I want to be friends with you on Insta, is that so bad?”

There's a blustery sigh over the receiver. “Fine, but I don't want to hear any complaints from you. You asked for it! And don’t you dare tease me about the username!”

And that's how they end up going through Credence's Instagram for the first time,Tina snorting softly to herself at his username, _princesscredence,_ as she fends off her friends trying to snatch her phone to gawk at the photos. It's a very private blog and Tina feels almost guilty for showing her friends.

Tina recognizes Queenie is the only one liking any of the rather innocuous posts; she’s the only friend on his list, and Tina can't helped but be a little charmed. The account consists mainly of pictures of Credence and her dad cuddling in different positions, filters doing nothing to hide Credence's plethora of vibrant hickeys and his kiss-bruised mouth, even in the tiny pixel preview icons. Tina is ashamed of her ability to recognize Credence's happy, dreamy post-coitus expression, but it's worth going through pic after pic of her shirtless dad cuddling him to see her friends’ reactions.

“They're so _cute,”_ blubbers Molly, four glasses of wine in and already gone. She points clumsily at one of the previews, her fingertips slipping and sliding on the screen.

“You should see them in real life, they can barely keep their hands off each other,” mutters Tina with no small amount of trauma.

Angela taps on one of the posts and Tina has to tear the phone away before she accidentally likes one of the photos. _“That's_ your dad?” she gasps, and Tina starts to regret showing them the account. “I can't even blame your ex for jumping ship. Your dad is fucking hot,” Angela says, adding sheepishly as Tina rolls her eyes, “not that you're not attractive, but. Just look at him!”

She taps on a pic Credence took of her father silhouetted against the morning light at the window in their bedroom and even Tina has to admit it's a beautiful photo. It's almost too much to look at, like reading someone's secret love letter and she quickly swipes back to the account homepage.

Molly bullies her way between them to get a closer look. “Holy shit,” she exclaims. “Look at _this_ one,” she says, selecting yet another photo of Tina's dad, this time one of him sitting at the new weight bench she spied in the garage.

There's a slightly confused furrow between her father’s brow as he looks up at the camera, as though he's perplexed as to why Credence would want a photo of him like this. This is before the beard and like most of Credence's photos of her father, he's shirtless in this one too. He's curved over the weight bench, skin glistening with sweat, biceps bulging as he curls a fifty pounder, and Tina has to close the app before her friends have collective aneurysms.

“Yep, okay, we're done here,” Tina declares, shutting her phone.

“Wait—” Angela protests. “But we didn't even get to see a closeup of that other one of your dad. Can we follow the account too? Do you have more photos of him? Does he have Snapchat? He should snap his workouts. Can we call him daddy?”

Tina chokes on her wine and flings a pillow at her friend as she splutters, trying to breathe past the throat-closing horror. “No!” she wheezes. “Abso-fucking-lutely _not_. _What the fuck_. _"_

Later, after her friends have left and Tina is still feeling slightly maudlin, she pulls up Credence's Instagram account again. She opens photo after photo of the two of them, simply admiring how _happy_ they look together and the adoring way they _look_ at each other.

Every picture of them looks like a voyeuristic snapshot of their lives, as though they're sharing precious private moments, little jewels from a secret world where the two of them are the only occupants. There are entire stories and lifetimes in the curves of their mouths and bodies, stars and endless space in the way they look at each other.

There’s one particular photo she has a hard time looking away from, one of Credence, probably taken by her father. He’s standing by the window of their bedroom, haloed in the morning light, looking over his shoulder back at the camera, long curls tousled and side swept. His mouth is curved in a gentle smile, his gaze warm and bright, and Tina has never seen him look so soft and beautiful before. She wonders if this is what love does to people: softens them at the edges and makes them resplendent, glowing from the inside out, especially when they’re seen through the lens of the one who loves them back.

Tina allows herself to wonder in her alcohol haze if she and Newt ever looked at each other that way, if they've ever taken such sweet photos together, even just one. She's afraid of the answer as she thinks on it, almost certain that it's _no_ , because they didn’t come even close to this, not at all. They certainly didn't have this kind of romance, this devastating ride-or-die forever kind of relationship, this heart wrenching, soul gutting kind of love.

They were good together, but clearly not good enough. The dark flavor of wine isn't the only bitter taste in her mouth.

She should really call him though. Or at the very least, text, just to say hi. Just to bridge the widening berth between them, even a little bit. Just to _try._

Tina stares at her phone for a long time before sighing softly and puts it away. Maybe tomorrow.

She tosses and turns for hours, trying to desperately to fall asleep before finally giving up. She grabs for her phone again and taps into Instagram, pathetically drawn back into the colorful picture book of her father and ex-boyfriend’s lives, lives she's been stupidly oblivious to for so long.

She scrolls past the newer photos, the ones she’s already seen until she reaches photos from the previous summer while she was away. A group of posts catches her eye, all of them aquamarine blue, and when she opens one of them, she realizes they’re all of Credence and her father on a beach in Culebra, surrounded by beautiful turquoise ocean and white sand paradise.

Tina had never known her father to be one for vacations, much less beaches. They’d gone to the beach maybe a handful of times when she was younger, before they both realized neither of them cared for the sand and salt. But he looks so _happy_ in the photos with his arms around Credence, tanned and smiling. The joy makes him look years younger and Tina can even begrudgingly see what her friends were saying about her father, how handsome and glowing he looks.

But their shared happiness also makes her realize how _lonely_ she feels. She almost cries when she finds the photo of Credence petting a sea turtle, the caption ‘the best time of my life’ making her heart nearly crack in two.

Before she realizes what she's doing, she's already five rings in and Credence is picking up, sounding out of breath.

“Tina?” he gasps, as though he had run for the phone or he's in the middle of—

She groans to herself. _Did they ever fucking stop?!_

“You two went to Puerto Rico?” Tina whispers harshly into the phone, inexplicably confused and a little heartbroken that they have this perfect life without her. It must be the alcohol talking, she's not usually like this, or maybe it's Newt’s absence, or it could be finals stress. She doesn't know where this well of misery suddenly sprang from but she can't help herself.

“I— _what?”_ Credence asks, sounding confused. She vaguely hears the rumble of her dad’s voice in the background and a soft yelp from Credence, urgently hissing, _“not now, Percival. Give me a second_ ,” before he returns to the line. “Are you okay, Tina?” he asks, sounding very concerned.

“You went to Puerto Rico without me,” Tina wibbles, sniffling a little, somehow finding that very important in the moment.

“I—I'm sorry?” Credence is still confused. “Tina, what's wrong? Why are you calling me at one in the morning to ask about last summer? Is everything okay? Did something happen?”

“I don't _know_ _!”_ she wails. “I don't know, Credence, but I'm so _sad_ right now and I don't know why.”

Before Credence can say anything, Tina’s father comes on the line, sounding just as worried. “What's wrong, honey?” he asks and Tina nearly sobs at the sound of his voice, suddenly missing him with a fierceness she can't explain.

She tries to pull herself together, trying valiantly to keep her voice steady when she tells him, “I'm sorry, Dad. I shouldn't have called and worried you both. I'm just—stressed and probably a little drunk right now. It's really nothing. I'll be fine. I-I'll see you both at Christmas,” and she quickly hangs up before either of them can say anything.

She turns off her phone and tries again to go back to sleep.

…

Christmas comes too quick for comfort, the days sliding into December with a whirlwind of finals and papers and too little sleep. It all happens so suddenly that Tina finds herself a bit shellshocked to be standing outside of her home so soon.

This time, Credence bounds down the steps to greet her, hugging her tightly. “Tina!” he says gleefully, trembling with excitement. “You're home!”

“Wouldn't miss Christmas with you and Dad for the world,” says Tina, smiling at him. “The lights look beautiful, by the way.”

Credence grins up at the pretty white and blue icicle lights that drip from the roof. “I just love Christmas,” he gushes, and Tina smiles, unable to help herself from sharing his infectious joy. He's cocooned in a soft pink sweater to ward off the chill in the air, cheeks flushed and smelling like warm sugar cookies.

“I do too,” she admits as they loop their arms together and head inside.

Her dad grins from the kitchen, shoulders thick in his own Christmas sweater, a dark navy fair isle, and Tina gripes as she's pulled in for a kiss and a hug, “You need to cool it with the working out thing, Dad. You're already huge enough.” Credence coughs into his hand.

Tina feels her father’s laugh rumble through him as he holds her. “Welcome home, Teens,” and those simple words make her tear up inexplicably.

As soon as he releases her, Credence immediately grabs her by the hand. “We made cookies,” he says eagerly, leading her into the living room.

The whole room is bedecked with Christmas decorations, string lights are strung from the cornices and along the enormous bay windows, a huge wreath above the fireplace and holly and garland strewn across the mantle. There’s a massive tree in the corner, covered from top to bottom in ornaments and baubles and tinsel. There’s a big plate of iced sugar cookies shaped like reindeer and stars on the coffee table, right next to a decorative bowl filled with glitter tipped pinecones.

When it was just Tina and her dad, they never bothered going so big for the holidays, usually just the tree, and they would celebrate Hanukkah with Queenie’s family instead. But there’s clearly Credence’s influence in every decoration now, from the jaunty colorful nutcrackers on the in-wall bookshelves to the velvet stockings embroidered with their names hanging at the fireplace. Tina gently touches hers, looking over at Credence who is very solemnly rearranging a few more baubles on the Christmas tree.

Tina feels… strange. Because in her head, she's started to place the house, her old home, as Credence and Her Father’s, not hers, not anymore. She'd already started to feel the distance while she's at school, the drift that comes with being away and the thought of _home_ always leaves her unmoored and morose. She didn't think she truly belonged here anymore, but looking around at the photos on the mantle, she realizes they're mostly of her.

There's seven year old Tina in a pink tutu on her father’s shoulders. Credence and Tina at the junior prom, Credence smiling and blushing at the camera while Tina kisses his cheek. Credence, Tina, and Queenie lounging by the pool, sunkissed and freckled, their noses smudged playfully with sunscreen. And, most heart-wrenchingly, Tina, her father, and Credence on that one spring day where Credence had bought them a baby rosebush for the garden. They're all dusty and sweaty from kneeling on the dirt for hours trying to find a way to fit that fucking rosebush _somewhere_ and eventually they finally decided to put it out front in the middle of the yard, a place of pride.

Tina feels her eyes watering as she tentatively touches the frame, one of her most precious memories. She's lost in thought and startles when she feels Credence touch her shoulder, quickly turning to see his wide, soft smile and dark glittering eyes.

“Tina,” he says softly, as if talking to a skittish cat. “You know, if you ever need anyone, I'll always be there for you. Even if you call in the middle of the night asking weird questions.”

She laughs slightly before nodding, trying to swallow back the tears. “I know, Cree. And same goes for you.”

Credence gives her a long look and swallows heavily as though he's weighing his words. “You'll always be the most important part of our lives,” he finally says. “You know that, don't you?”

Her father steps up from behind him, a smile making his eyes crinkle and the ever present furrow between his brow relax. “No matter how much we get lost in each other at times, no matter what we do or where we go, we'll always love you.”

Tina laughs, a little teary as Credence reaches out and takes her hand. “Yeah, I know,” she says weakly. “But it's still nice to hear every once and awhile.”

She's dragged in for another hug, this time with both of her two favorite men in the world, and before she knows it, they're eating Christmas Eve dinner happily, a perfectly cooked honey roast ham with greens and sweet potato and even a little dessert wine that her father turns a blind eye to as they uncork the bottle.

“If he's old enough to kiss your old man, he's old enough to drink a little wine,” her dad grumps when Tina makes a teasing comment and that's that.

“To family,” says Tina happily as they clink glasses in a cheesy toast. Celine Dion croons silvery notes on the radio as they gather round the tree after dinner and Credence shyly displays his impressive knowledge of all the words to O’Holy Night, the Christmas lights casting him in unearthly gold and red hues as he sings sweetly.

Her father looks dumbstruck enough that Tina snaps a photo on her phone for future blackmail material, and potential wedding story proof of how utterly pathetic her dad is when it comes to Credence. Tina doesn't mention to either of them that there is a Notes document on her iPhone of potential stories to tell during the reception dinner.

They manage to watch half of Rudolf the Rednosed Reindeer, a Graves family Christmas tradition, before Tina taps out, citing being tired from the bus ride and the good food before kissing her father goodnight and hugging Credence tightly.

“I'll make your favorite breakfast tomorrow to wake you up,” Credence promises. “French toast and hot chocolate.”

“I look forward to it,” sighs Tina, smiling as she heads upstairs to her room. This time when she curls up under the cover, she doesn't feel alone or abandoned or furious. Her homesickness is dissipating and it’s the lightest she’s felt in weeks.

She manages to sleep for a few hours before she wakes again, just before midnight. She groans and rubs at her eyes roughly, the blinking light of her alarm clock taunting her. She futilely tosses and turns for a bit, sheets tangling with her legs, trying to force herself back to sleep, but eventually she sits up and sighs, awake. She slips quietly into the hallway to use the bathroom, and after washing up, she finds her way downstairs to steal another of those sugar cookies Credence had insisted be put under the tree. But she has to stop midway down the steps when she hears soft voices drifting from the living room.

Not wanting to walk in on her father and Credence in compromising positions _yet again_ , Tina starts turning back towards the stairs when something her dad says stops her in her tracks. She finds herself drawn back to the voices, unable to resist even though she knows this is private, just for the two of them.

She stops just outside the living room, peeking in through the entry to see them dancing barefoot in the soft dark. They’re swaying gently to a slow song drifting quietly from the hidden speakers, a ridiculously romantic tune, the saps. The Christmas tree lights wash them in soft gold and red as the fireplace gently crackles and pops in the background, a cheerfully flickering blaze.

Tina watches as they turn in slow circles, smiling adoringly at one another and she has to bite her tongue to keep from tearing up. Credence is beautiful in the soft light, dressed in a sheer robe and lace negligee, fae features framed in soft curls. And the way her father is staring at him makes him look like a different man, softer and sweeter, gentled, and so achingly in love, she almost wants to look away.

“Do you remember our first dance?” comes the soft rumble of her dad’s voice.

Credence hums softly. “Of course. How do you expect me to forget something like that?” His lashes flutter happily. “You drove us to that outlook after we ran away from junior prom and we danced over the valley,” he says, smiling wistfully.

“It’s one of my favorite memories of us,” her father murmurs. “Even more so, maybe, than embarrassing myself in front of you trying to learn salsa.”

Credence laughs, reaching up to cup his face, gently brushing his thumb along the crest of his cheek. “I would never think any less of you for something like that, Percival. We had a wonderful time.”

“We did. Those were some of the happiest moments of my life, especially more so because I was with you, my love.”

Credence tugs him closer, burying his face in her father’s chest and nuzzling against him. He's slightly misty eyed when he tilts his head up again, unshed tears glimmering on his lashes, but his mouth is curved in a wide smile. “I was happy too. I _am_ happy. I'm always happy with you.”

"I wish I could've stayed in that paradise with you forever and had you all to myself," Tina’s dad says as he backs away a step. ”Just the two of us, my beautiful _esposa_.”

"We can always go back," Credence says softly, slightly confused, his voice tremulous. Tina covers her mouth because she thinks she knows what's to come, and an excited gasp might ruin the moment.

Her dad smiles and kisses Credence gently, a tender press of lips, vastly different from their usually passionate embraces. He pulls away slightly before continuing, "When they called you my wife there on that island, I wanted nothing more than for that to be true. But I was being a coward. I’ve wanted to ask for the longest time but I didn't know if you would want that too, if you thought the same way about us. But never doubt, princess, that all of me belongs to you, no matter what.” He takes a deep shuddering breath. “So, what I'm saying— _asking_ is, Credence," he says, kneeling down on one knee as tears begin slipping down Credence's cheeks. "Will you be my husband? My wife. My everything. Will you be mine forever?"

Credence is sobbing by the time her father pulls out the ring, nodding vigorously as he sinks onto his knees to throw his arms around his man. "Yes, Percival," he says around his tears, voice choked, pulling him close. "A-as if I could ever say no. You've ruined me for anyone else since the day I met you."

Tina can feel the tears sliding down her own cheeks as she watches, filled with warmth for them both. She hurriedly snaps a photo of them as they lean in for a kiss, Credence’s hand now glittering with diamond and gold as it slides gently up to tangle in her dad’s hair. She leaves as quietly as possible to give them their privacy and tiptoes out to the kitchen patio.

She breathes deep in the crisp night air, tilting her face up to look at the starless sky. It's midnight here, but for Newt it would be early morning, only eight am or so. She remembers Newt always rose with the sun when they were together, slipping quietly out from underneath the covers like a ghost to tend to his pets and make breakfast for his mother.

He'd be puttering around his dad’s home now all the way across the ocean. Maybe he’s putting on the kettle, or staring out over the misty English moors, or gathering with Theseus and their dad’s new family under the tree for presents. Tina remembers his smile at an ungodly hour, eyes twinkling with happiness.

They're not her father and Credence. They don't get along every moment of every day, they're able to control themselves when they're alone together, they don't pine for each other every minute they're apart, they don't whisper love notes to each other on every breath they breathe the way her father and Credence do. They're not the dramatic love story that comes once in a hundred years. But they don’t have to be.

Tina feels her phone, warm in her palm, suddenly not as heavy as it had been yesterday and the day before that and the day before that. She thumbs the screen, looks at her lock screen affectionately. It’s a photo of her and Newt, their curls tangling together as they cuddle in a cafe somewhere a lifetime ago. She puts in her passcode and taking a deep breath, calls her boyfriend.

“Tina?” His voice is rough with surprise. “M—merry Christmas! I didn't think I'd hear from you.”

“Yeah,” Tina smiles, and the knot in her chest loosens. “Neither did I.”

**Author's Note:**

> Lil oneshot for you guys! But honestly we couldn't quit this AU if we tried.
> 
> Follow us on Tumblr if you like:  
> [pineapplebread.tumblr.com](http://pineapplebread.tumblr.com/)  
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